


Being Close Kills

by Wolfcry22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awesome Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer Deals With Idjits, Canon Compliant, Common Cold, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Injured Sam Winchester, Overprotective Dean Winchester, Parental Bobby Singer, Protective Bobby Singer, Protective Dean Winchester, Serious Injuries, Sick Character, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25474852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22
Summary: Set somewhere during Season 2. Dean and Sam have to separate to finish a case since Dean is very sick and could sneeze and give away their position. So, he stays at Bobby's. However, when Sam comes back with a devastating injury, Dean is ordered to stay as far away from Sam as possible since catching a cold right now could kill him. How will Dean fare when he's forced to stay away from the one thing that he can't live without, Sam?
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	1. Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am at it again with another hurt/comfort. It’s another story that takes place in Season 2 (which happens to be one of my favorite seasons) when their relationship was still pretty good with one another. This story will be three chapters long in it’s entirety. 
> 
> Warning for language and graphic depictions of violence.

"Dean, would you stop snorting whatever gunk is in your nose like that just to annoy me? Because if you are, it's not going to work!"

Dean glared from his spot in the passenger seat. He had the sleeve of his ratty sweatshirt that was two sizes too big pressed against his nose to stop the liquid from gushing out of his nose like a damn waterfall. He had been doing okay a few days ago, but when had woken up this morning and couldn't breathe through his nose, his chest on fire, and a fever of 102.7, he knew that things had gotten so much worse. Once Sam caught wind of that he had packed Dean in the Impala and told him that he was driving him to Bobby's so that he could stay with him while Sam finished the case.

"Why? Does my sniffling bother you," Dean taunted dryly as he shot daggers at his brother.

Sam raised an eyebrow and tightened his one hand on the steering wheel. "I'm not having this conversation with you right now," Sam snapped cooly as he pulled into the junkyard attached to Bobby's house.

"You're not making me go in there," growled Dean, suddenly pitching forward with an uncovered sneeze.

"TcshshsSHSH!"

Sam grimaced as he raised his elbow almost over his own mouth and nose. "Gross, dude! I thought this car was your 'baby'," Sam grumbled as he parked the Impala, itching to put as much distance between his germ factory brother and himself as possible.

Dean rubbed a sleeve against his nose in an upward motion, snorting back congestion that made Sam squirm. "I'll clean her inside and out once you've gotten over this cold."

"What," Sam asked with a baffled look on his face.

Dean pitched forward once more and Sam jumped back to avoid being sprayed by his brother's germs.

"Tchshshhs!"

"Bless you," Sam grumbled as he passed Dean some napkins that they had left over from the meal that they had picked up on the road to Bobby's. "What were you saying?"

"The little tango that we always do," Dean told him as he coughed wetly into his elbow. "I get sick and give it to you. You get sick and give it to me. It's unavoidable."

Sam opened the door and pointed at Dean. "That is not happening this time because you're going to be here at Bobby's. Get him sick for a change."

"You even try that and you're dead, idgit!"

Dean turned to see Bobby marching toward them, donned with signature ball cap and everything. He stopped beside the Impala and opened the passenger door to collect the eldest Winchester. Dean groaned and pulled himself up and out of the car with Bobby clutching at his shoulders firmly to drag him out. Sam climbed out of his side, bustled to the back to grab his brother’s duffle, tossing it to Dean. Dean barely managed to catch it with one hand, stumbling under the weight on shaky legs.

Bobby rushed forward and hauled him up from his slumped position against the Impala before he could fall flat on his face. "You're burning up," Bobby grunted once he had thrust the back os his hand against Dean’s furrowed forehead. He swore loudly and looked over at Sam. "A little help here."

Sam darted over and took the bulk of his brother's weight, draping Dean’s arm over his shoulder. Sam wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist to pull him close while Bobby grabbed Dean’s things. Dean blinked his eyes as the world started to spin right in front of him. He would've said something if the fever wasn't making it damn near impossible to speak and make sense of everything.

"Gets your hands off," Dean mumbled as he attempted to pull away from Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s stubbornness. "I don't think so. You're going to rest for a few days while I deal with the vamps. It'll only take two days tops. I can handle it," rambled Sam as he thought about all of the arguments that would’ve ensued between them about it—at least would have if Dean wasn’t so feverish.

"TcshshsSHS!"

"Seriously, dude," groaned Sam as he watched Dean sneeze openly in front of them, light mist catching in the streaming sunlight that reflected off one of the rust coated cars to their right.  
  
"That's just nasty," Bobby muttered from behind them, brows knit together. He had spent enough time with the boys to know how to care for them when they were sick. However, that had been years ago. He had never dealt with a sick Dean when he was grown with his own opinions and insistences. This would be a challenge for power with Bobby testing the waters to see what Dean could tolerate before he became an insufferable ass.

Sam hauled Dean into Bobby's house and led him over to the couch in the living room. He plopped him down, clapping his hands while he looked over to Bobby. "Looks like he's all yours."

Bobby gave him a pointed look. "Lucky me."

"He should be fine." Sam rummaged into his pockets and brought out some cold medicine and a thermometer. "Makes sure he takes this every four hours and check his temperature regularly. He's prone to fever spikes."

"You know I used to watch after you boys when you were sick more than your father did," Bobby pointed out as he swiped the supplies from Sam's waiting grasp. "I do know how to do this."

Dean lifted his head a bit as he watched the scene unfold. If he had been anymore lucid then he would've laughed right now. "You know that I can hear you two, right," Dean called just as his head dove forward into his steepled hands.

"TchsHSShshsHS!"

"Shut up, Dean," Bobby and Sam chorused.

Dean leaned back as he felt the pressure in his head shift and his sinus headache return tenfold. He lifted both hands to massage the space beside his nose, feeling hot pain rise from it. He let a couple hefty coughs, thick with congestion that left a strange taste in the back of his throat.

"I know that you can deal with him a lot better than I can. Thanks a lot for this, Bobby. It'll only be for a few days," Sam told Bobby thankfully, clapping the older hunter on the back.

Bobby sighed heavily, shoulder slumping. "Don't mention it. You always know you're welcome here." 

Sam didn't say anything as he sat down on the couch and rested a hand on Dean's forehead. Dean battered his head away, lip curled in agitation at being mothered by his little brother. Swiftly, Dean broke away from his brother’s grasp to bury his head against the couch.

"TcshsHSHS! TcstshsHSSH!"

"Bless you," Sam offered politely before he pulled a box of tissues from the duffle since he was sure that Bobby didn't have any tissues anywhere in his mouse. "Use this sparingly. It’s all you got.”

"Lucky be," Dean grumbled, voice thick with congestion. He blindly grouped until his fingers grazed the edge of the box. Dean grabbed a fistful of tissues out of the box and blew his nose with a gurgling squelch. He bunched the wilted tissues and threw them onto the ground. Sam grimaced.

"Just get some rest. I'll be back soon," Sam reassured, reaching over to ruffle the spiky fur on top of his brother’s head, just as Dean used to do to him. Dean reached up to shove Sam’s hand away, but Sam was quicker, and easily ducked back before Dean could grasp him.

"You act like I'm going to miss you.” Dean smirked, arms crossed over his chest while he leaned back against the couch, giving a productive snuffle.

Sam hit his shoulder hard and Dean flopped back over on the couch. "Don't be a jerk," he joked.

"Bitch," Dean bantered.

Sam rose from the couch and passed by Bobby, who’s hands were shoved into his pockets. He gave a curt nod to him before he headed out the door, the sound of the screen door swinging in his wake. Once Dean heard it slam, he coughed wetly into a clutched fist, the other rubbing small circles against his chest. He coughed openly since he knew how much Sam hated that and that Sam wasn’t there to moan about it.

"Alright, time for some Mucinex." Bobby headed into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a bottle of gooey liquid. "Whatever the hell this is doesn't even sound good."

Dean opened one eye. "It's not. It's awful! Sabby picked it out and I tried to tell him that it was disgusting, but he didn't believe me. Remind me to use it on him when he's sick," he croaked hoarsely. It wouldn’t be long before Dean actually lost his voice.  
  
Bobby sighed as he brought it over and poured the correct amount into the small plastic measuring cup that came with it. Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Bobby swooped in and poured it between his parted lips without time for Dean to protest. Dean glowered, gagging as he swallowed. Bobby withdrew the tiny cup from Dean’s lips and headed back to the kitchen to set the medicine on the counter. There it would stay until the next four hours rolled around and it was time for another dose.

"That was easy enough," Bobby commented as he grabbed himself a beer from the fridge. 

Dean squinted his eyes. "I'll take one."

"You're not having beer when you're sick," snorted Bobby as he laughed at Dean's stupidity. He swallowed a swig of beer, pulling up a chair across from Dean.

Dean raised an eyebrow quizzically. "What are you doing?"

"We're going to talk," Bobby replied as he set the beer down on the ground beside the leg of the chair and looked at Dean intently as if he was trying to figure him out.

Dean squirmed ever so slightly as he lifted a hand and coughed into it. "Talk about what? I'm fine. TcshsHSHSH!"

"You sound completely fine," Bobby grumbled sarcastically.

Dean sat up and threw his legs over the side of the couch. He rubbed his hand against the side of his nose, letting out another snorting sound as he snuffled back congestion. Sam warned him that it would cause a sinus infection if he kept it up, but he couldn’t be bothered about it now.

"Bobby, I really don't want to talk about this. Sam's the one with all of the feelings," pointed out Dean with a few obscure hand motions to go along with it.

"I know that it's gotta be hard with losing your Daddy and all. You're not taking it well. Sam's told me. You were looking for hunts 24/7 and look where that's got you. You're flat on your ass and Sam's out there taking on vamps by himself," Bobby flashed sternly.

Dean punched the couch as hard as he could muster. It was surprisingly weak thanks to his fever. "What do you want me to do?! Cry?! Scream?! Be angry at him?! What the hell do you want?!"

The furious holler brought on a hacking fit. Dean gripped his knees as he doubled over, coughing painfully into a weakly raised arm. Tears streamed down his face as his chest ached with every expulsion. His nose started to run as his face turned beat red.

Bobby was at Dean’s side before Dean could even register that he had moved. He started to thump rhythmically against Dean’s back, cupped hands striking the right spots. Dean eventually sucked in a few breaths, finally able to take in a few breaths without coughing. He looked to Bobby as the older hunter handed him the box of tissues Sam had left behind and Dean tilted his head, bright green eyes shinning in confusion.

Bobby motioned to his nose obscurely. "You gotta little something right there."

Dean quickly snatched the tissue and started to wipe at his nose, embarrassment burning through his face. “Sorry. That sometimes happens. TcshshsHSHS!"

"Bless ya. Well, if you're not going to talk to me then you might as well get some rest. You're going to be up in four hours anyway," Bobby grunted as he thought about having to wake up every four hours just to make sure that Dean took his medicine. He'd do anything for those idgits.

Dean knew better than to argue with Bobby. "Alright, thanks, Bobby."

Bobby flicked his hand, speaking over his shoulder. "Don't mention it. Just try to be a good patient and if you need anything then you know where to find me."


	2. Stay Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean lifted his wrist to his nose to try and mop up his runny nose. “Bobby, I—“
> 
> "Don't argue with me, boy! Just do as your told. It's what's best for Sam," Bobby told him, even though there was conflict shinning in his gaze. "You have to believe me, son. This is for the best."

Pounding on the front door woke Dean up from his far from peaceful slumber. He glanced around fearfully, not recognizing his surroundings. It took his sluggish and feverish brain a moment to realize that he was in one of Bobby's spare bedrooms. Bobby had moved him there in the middle of the day after he had taken a shower with Bobby muttering that he would get better quicker if he was actually in a bed. He had been sleeping quite nicely on the couch until then.

"What happen to you?! Get in here?!"

"I'm sorry," came a strangled voice before Dean heard what appeared to be sound of blood being coughed up.

Dean swung his sore legs over the side of the bed, sniffling hard as he lifted a fist to his nose to try and stem the impending sneeze. Unfortunately, that didn't happen.

"TcsshshHSHS! TschshsHsh! TchshshSH! Ugh, Dabit!"

Dean reached out and grabbed some paper towels since they had run out of tissues long ago. He blew his nose with a honk on his way down the stairs. His hearing was a clogged due to the fever that burned just beneath Dean’s skin, but he knew Sam's voice anywhere.

He clambered down the stairs and sucked in a breath when he saw Sam with numerous slashes on his body. He was drenched in blood and his shirt was completely shredded. However, what worried Dean the most was a giant gash on his chest, right where his heart was. It looked like someone had ripped him apart and left him for dead.

"Sabby," Dean whispered, panic edging his voice.

Bobby hauled Sam over to the couch as he hurried to collect anything that could be used for first aid. He had some things, but probably not as much as he wanted to have. He brought it back over as Dean continued to creep forward.

"Sabby," Dean continued. "tcshsHsHSH!"

Bobby whipped around and stretched out a hand toward Dean while he pressed some gaze against Sam's chest, which was gushing blood. "Get back! You can't come near him."  
  
"Whadt?"

Those were words that Dean never thought that he would hear from anyone, let alone Bobby. He felt like someone had torn his heart out of his chest and not gone after his brother. He had never been told to stay away, let alone listened to it. But, something in Bobby's voice made him stop in his tracks.

"This is bad, Dean. These wounds are deep. The chance of infection is high and you're sick," Bobby explained, pushing a rag against Sam's chest. Sam gasped in pain, starting to sit up only to fall back down, vomiting blood down his front.

"I have to help him," Dean begged, hands clutched into trembling fists at his sides.

Bobby left Sam's side and stormed over to Dean, pushing both hands harshly against Dean's chest. Dean stumbled backwards and fell against the table, an empty beer bottle topping over. His head hit the edge as he let out a pathetic cough, followed by a volley of unrestrained sneezing into his shoulder.

"TcshshSHsshsh! TcshshHSSH! TshchshSHSH!"

"That's what I mean," Bobby continued frantically. He had too much to deal with a bleeding out Sam to babysit a sniffling Dean. "You're a walking contagion and I can't have you near Sam. You'll kill him like that, you know! Just go back up to bed and stay away. The last thing he needs besides infection is something like that to fight as well.”

Dean lifted his wrist to his nose to try and mop up his runny nose. “Bobby, I—“

"Don't argue with me, boy! Just do as your told. It's what's best for Sam," Bobby told him, even though there was conflict shinning in his gaze. "You have to believe me, son. This is for the best."

Dean gritted his teeth together, bristling in agitation. He looked at Sam's injured body before he hauled himself to his feet. Dean nodded slowly in Bobby’s direction, body shuddering with restrained coughs, lips pressed in a firm line. "You take care of him, Bobby, you hear?"

"Loud and clear," answered Bobby as he patted Dean on the back. "You just stay up there and I'll be up as soon as I can to give you a report, okay?"

Dean said nothing more as he forced himself up the stairs, one lumbering step at a time. He stopped halfway as he heard Sam scream when Bobby cleaned the wounds with alcohol. Anger burned through Dean. He should be doing that, not Bobby. He should be the one treating his brother. Dean couldn't even make it up the stairs without a break, let alone help out Sam. He knew that Bobby was right, but that didn't mean it didn't worry the hell out of him.

Dean finally made it to the bedroom and plopped down face first on the bed. He reached across the bed to the nightstand where he grabbed a paper towel and noisily blew his nose. When he finished, he closed his eyes and sighed heavily, the breath crackling in his chest. He longed for rest, but he didn't think he could attain it knowing his brother was laying injured downstairs.

Dean finally closed his eyes and felt himself falling asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Boy? Dean!"

Dean gasped when Bobby touched him and he shot straight up. The change in pressure immediately brought on a sneeze and he couldn't cover his face in time.

"TcshsHSHSHS! TcshsHSHS! TschshSHS TcshsHSS!"

Bobby stepped back just in time as he grabbed the paper towels and handed them to Dean. "Here. It sounds like you need this."

Sam took them from Bobby's hands and rubbed his nose against them. They were rough against his already sore nose and caused it to peel, but it was better than nothing. He snorted back the congestion before he looked at the blood that doused Bobby's shirt. Dean's heard skipped a beat.

"Is that Sabby's," Dean whispered, already knowing the answer. 

Bobby looked down gravely, mentally beating himself for not changing first. "I'm afraid so, but he's alright. He'll be weak and a little lightheaded for a while, but he'll pull through. He always does."

That didn't make Dean feel that much better. "I should've been there, Bobby. I should've been there for my brother," he told him hollowly.

Bobby sat down on the edge bed beside Dean and cracked his dried and bloody knuckles. "Look, you chouldn't have. If Sam gets sick right now it could kill him. His body is that weak right now. Let his body fight one thing at a time."

"TcshsHSHS!"

"Do you really want him stuck with this," Bobby asked as Dean blew his nose. He pulled the paper towel away with a small stream of mucus following. Dean grumbled as he furiously wiped it away.

"No," Dean croaked. "But, is he awake?"

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, for a little bit. He wanted me to come and check on you."

"Idiot," Dean muttered, lifting his hand and running his fingers through his sweaty hair. "Bobby, please let me see him, like real quick—“

"It's not a good idea, Dean. It's way too risky," Bobby argued, cutting him off abruptly.

Dean swore loudly. His fist came down hard on the mattress between him. "Damn it, Bobby! He's my brother! I would never do anything to hurt him, but I need to talk to him." His voice caught. "I can't lose him like I lost Dad."

"Is that what this is about? Dean, if he catches this then he will die. What could be so important that it can't wait," Bobby asked dumbfounded.

Dean bit his bottom lip almost until it bled. He gave a powerful sniffle and shrugged. "It's just something that I have to do. You have to understand that, Bobby. Please?"

Bobby looked more than reluctant. "I don't think so. It's not a good idea."

"Bobby, I'll do anything. I'll wear one of those stupid hospital masks. I'll wash my hands and sanitize the hell out of them. I won't even touch him. Please," Dean begged with almost a hint of mania in his voice that Bobby was starting to worry about. "Whatever you want me to do, I'll do. Just let me see him."

Bobby seemed to contemplate it for what felt like forever. Eventually he let out a sigh, knowing that Dean would do it anyway even without his permission. It would be much easier just to go along with it and set up ground rules then have Dean stagger down there without any control.

"Tell you what, if your fever is below 101 and you promise to do all those things then I'll allow it, but for no more than fifteen minutes. Sam needs to get some rest and so do you," Bobby commanded in his usual no nonsense tone.

Dean was ready to jump up and down excitedly. He managed to keep his cool as he nodded his head slowly a few times. "Yup, that seems fair."

"Alright. Open up," Bobby ordered once he had grabbed the thermometer from the side table and came toward Dean's mouth.

Dean opened his mouth and allowed Bobby to stick it under his tongue. He then did something that he wasn't sure that he had ever done: pray.

God, I know that I don't usually do this. I'm not even sure if you're up here, but please let my temperature be low enough. I have to see Sammy. I just need to see him. I'll do whatever else you want, but let me see him. Okay?

The beeping went off and not a minute too soon. Bobby took it from Dean’s mouth just as Dean twisted as far from Bobby as possible to sneeze over his shoulder.

"TcshsHSHS!"

"You had better not do that," growled Bobby as he looked at the small digital numbers, wishing he had his readers.

"Sorry," Dean apologized as he wiped at his extremely running nose. "What does it say?"

Bobby huffed as he turned to show it to Dean. Dean would've howled in amusement if it wouldn't have been so ironic.

"100.9. How did you pull that off," Bobby asked dryly, setting the device aside.

Dean shrugged, chest puffing out in pride. "Talked to the big guy."

"Well, you start washing those hands of yours and I'll get the mask. I think I still have some downstairs. I'll bring up some sanitizer too. Can't be too careful," he grumbled as he rose from the bed and walked to the door.

Dean did as he was told. He walked to the bathroom and started the water on almost as hot as it would go so that he could kill any remanence of germs that lurked on his hands. He was just about to start running his hands through the burning water when the familiar prick in the back of his sinuses started up again. Dean growled to himself as he felt it almost become stuck right at the tip, teasing him with the feathery echoes of an itch blossoming beyond Dean’s threshold of tolerance.

"C'mon," Dean complained, lips parted, light breaths being pulled in through his nose to urge the feeling along. 

It did nothing.

He then lifted his hand to his face and rubbed at his nose with the side of his nose. That's all it took. He raised his hands over his face tightly since he could feel how messy it was about to become if his earlier congestion was anything to go by.

"TcshsHSSH! TschsHSshsH! TcshsHSoo!"

Once Dean was finished, he looked in the mirror. He pulled his hands a bit away and saw the mess that he had left behind. It was milky and sticky and clung to both his hands and to his nose. He rolled his eyes while he shoved them into the water and started to wash his hands.

"Dabit!"

He swore loudly once more when he realized that he had to blow his nose. That would mean that he would have to wash his hands yet again. But, he reminded himself that this was for Sammy, and if this was what it took to see him and make sure that he didn't catch this, then it would be worth it. It might even help with Dean's guilt for the fact that he wasn’t there to help him in the first place.

Dean grabbed a wad of toilet paper and gave his nose a few good honks. Once he was sure that he stemmed the congestion for at least a little bit, he started to wash his hands again. He must have washed them for a good three minutes before he was finally satisfied. Quickly he dried them and walked back to the bedroom and sat on the bed, tapping his feet impatience, waiting for Bobby.

It wasn't long before Bobby came back in and tossed Dean a surgical mask. "Here ya go. Wear that and don't take it off."

"What if I have to sneeze," Dean asked as he placed it on his face and tucked the strings around his ears, securing it in place with his hands.

"Either hold it back or sneeze in there. You're not taking it off," Bobby ordered as he handed out a small container. "Take a squirt of this. It's supposed to kill most germs."

Dean wanted to point out that he had washed his hands better in the past three minutes then he probably ever had, but he stopped himself. Bobby could change his mind in a second and Dean couldn't have that.

"Alright," Bobby announced once he checked Dean over. "I'm going to go out and get something to eat since we got nothing in here. Think you'll be alright for fifteen minutes with Sam?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Who do you think I am, Bobby?"

Bobby chuckled as he hit Dean on the back. "A sorry son of a bitch who loves his brother."

"You would be right."


	3. Stubborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean had never been apart from his brother when he’s been sick and he’s not going to start now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This’ll be the last part of the story. It has been a blast to write and I tried to make this chapter as long as I could without drawing it out. I hope that you all enjoy!

Dean tiptoed down the stairs and heard the creak under him. Bobby's house was beyond old and it wasn't like he took care of it much. But, Dean didn't mind. As far as he was concerned this place was home, even if it was a little musty.

He came into the living room and saw Sam laying down on the couch, breathing loudly. He looked to be in pain and the bandage job that Bobby did was only a patch job. Stitches were inevitable and Dean didn't even want to think how much those would hurt.

He tried to be as quiet as possible, but through his fever he stumbled into a stack of books, causing one to fall and strike the ground with a thud. He swore to himself before Sam's head turned as much as it could when he caught sight of him.

"Dean," Sam rasped in surprise.

Dean forced a smile. "It's me, Sammy. How ya doin?"

Sam thought for a minute as it it was assessing how he felt. He looked down at his shredded chest, shirt caked with dried blood, before he glanced back up at Dean. "Okay."

"Seriously?! You look like you went ten rounds with a pack of werewolves and you say that you're 'okay'?" Dean let out a laugh through the mask, threatening to force a cough from his infected lungs. "That's a new one, Sam."

Sam smiled at Dean's joking before he shook his head gravely. "Not too great. There's a lot of pain, but I'll be fine," he reassured.

Dean was about to clap Sam on the shoulder when he caught himself. He suddenly scooted back so that he was almost by the stairs, shivering. "Um, I-I know that you will be," Dean croaked. This time his words did enough to enflame the tickle and cause Dean to cough to clear the congestion in the back of his throat painfully.

"Dean," Sam questioned as he swung his legs over the side of the couch and gasped in pain, hand flying up to clutch at his chest. Dean's first instinct was to rush over to him, but he stopped himself just short of him. Instead he stayed where he was and prayed that Sam could fight this on his own. Sam let out a couple steadying breaths, managing to relax his chest muscles enough so that he didn’t look like he was going to pass out. Once he had composed himself, he looked over to his brother in shock. “Dean, you can come over here?”

Dean shook his head and tried not to look directly at Sam. He knew that if he looked into Sam’s liquid puppy-dog eyes, there would be less and less chance that he could refuse Sam’s plea. "No, I really can't."

"And why not," questioned Sam as he tilted his head in confusion.

"Because I can't get you sick, Sammy! You could die from an infection like that," Dean explained in exasperation. He frustratedly worked his hands against one another, wringing them in a tight circle.

Sam snorted in amusement. "Since when do you listen to stuff like that?"

"Since it's your health, Sammy." Dean coughed heavily in the mask, heat from his breath causing sweat to collect on his upper lip. “I don't want to get you sick. Besides, Bobby will kill me if he sees me crossing any lines."

Sam didn't seem to understand, or if he did, then he didn't care. He scooted over ever so slightly and patted the couch beside him. His eyes glowed hopefully as he looked up to his brother. "I'll be okay, Dean. I’m sure of it.”

Dean shook his head. "It's not a good idea, Sam. I'm sorry."

Sam hung his head at Dean’s words. He raised a hand and rubbed at his throat. "Could you get me some water, please? My throat is a little sore."

"No problem," Dean told him as he quickly headed to Bobby's kitchen, relieved to have something productive to do. He quickly found a glass, and filled it with water from the tap. He padded back over to Sam and handed him the water. "Here you go."

Sam took the water from Dean's hand with adept fingers. Suddenly, he reached out with his other hand and grasped Dean’s elbow, pulling him forward. Dean stumbled in surprise, unsteady legs buckling, as he fell onto the couch. He swore under his breath while Sam laughed loudly. He nudged his brother playfully, making Dean reverently recoil and scoot to the completely opposite end of the couch, chest heaving in panicked breaths.

Sam trailed off as he lifted a hand to his chest where the deepest wound was. He pressed against it as a fresh stream of blood started to trickle out, overflowing from the now saturated bandage. Dean grumbled to himself. He knew that he probably needed to change Sam's dressing if he had soaked through it already. It would've been better if Bobby was there, but since he wasn't, it all fell on Dean's shoulders.

"Just don't move. I'll be right back," Dean explained as he rushed forward and grabbed the first aid kit that Bobby had left sprawled on the kitchen table.

He returned with the kit hugged tightly to his chest. He kneeled against the couch and immediately started to remove the bandage around Sam's wound, trying to be as cryptic as possible so not to cause Sam any undue pain. He started to clean it again with alcohol and then started to clean it again, just to be safe. Sam winced with every touch and Dean frowned through his mask.

"We're almost finished," Dean told him as he pressed on it to stop the rest of the bleeding. They didn’t have the proper tools to preform a blood transfusion, which meant Dean had to stop the bleeding and fast. He bandaged Sam again when the bleeding had slowed to a faint trickle and saw Sam visibly relax. "There."

"Thanks," Sam breathed thankfully.

Dean suddenly felt the prick in his sinuses. He had no idea how sneezing into the mask would be, but he really didn't have a choice. He looked over his shoulder and tried to stifle it as best as possible without his hands, but it didn't work in the slightest.

"TchshshshSHShshs!"

Sam raised an eyebrow at the strained and congested sound. “Bless you."

Dean just froze. He could feel the messiness of the sneeze and what he had expelled. The mucus ran from his nose and streamed down the mask. Dean could only imagine what it looked like, but that was something that he didn't need to see. He breathed loudly since his nose was blocked beyond help. The only thing that he could do was blow his nose.

"Ugh, thandks," whispered Dean with a tired cough.

Sam knew better than to straighten, but he did prop himself up a bit with a pillow and patted beside him. "Dean, please stay."

"Sab, this is a bad idea," Dean snuffled as he snorted back congestion. "Bobby id going to kill be. I don't wandt to ged you sick."

Sam rolled his eyes as he pulled himself back into sitting position, but he was sprawled out a bit more, his chest heaving with every breath. "Dean, this is stupid. I always catch your colds and you always catch mine. Can we just skip the middle man here?"

Dean sighed as he stood and fell beside him, but he kept some distance—as much as possible on the short couch. "Jusdt for a liddle bid," Dean told him as he pointed a finger in his brother's direction.

Sam didn't say anything as he reached forward blindly. His fingers struck something on a pile of books, pulling it free and tossing it onto Dean’s lap. Dean looked down to the offered item. Although it was tempting, he shook his head. "I'm nodt daking this mask off," Dean argued as he shook his head a few times, sending a fresh rush of mucus to run down his face.

Sam couldn't take it any longer. He pulled the mask off of Dean's face so fast that Dean couldn't even process it. Dean tried to turn his head away, but Sam caught sight of the mess. He set down the mask on the floor as thought it was toxic before he shoved a few squares of toilet paper against Dean's twitching nose. The pressure was enough to send Dean off again.

"TchshsHsHshs! TchshshsHSHS TshsHSSHSH!"

"Bless you! This cold must be worse than I thought," Sam commented as he watched Dean scrub and blow his much abused nose. 

"Sam, I have to go! I can't stay here and get you sick," Dean croaked as he turned away from his brother, heat rising high on his cheeks, alerting Dean that his fever was rising.

Sam suddenly leaned forward and rested his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean tried to move away, but Sam was just so heavy and Dean was just so weak. Sam sighed as he almost buried his head against his brother's neck. 

"This is so not a good idea," Dean grumbled as he sniffed powerfully.

"I've missed talking to you, Dean. I mean, after dad died I just thought that I lost you. We were just doing hunt after hunt until you burned yourself out," Sam rambled.

Dean turned to look at him and saw the glassy look flash in his gaze. Sweat clung to his upper brow and it appeared that it was impossible for him to focus. Dean unthreaded a hand from Sam's body and rested it on Sam's forehead. He moved to his cheeks and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

"What are you doing," Sam asked.

"You have a fever, damnit!" Dean rocked himself forward, but Sam's weight wasn't moving. "I have to go. You might already be sick."

"You know that's not true," Sam pointed out as he breathed heavily. He winced as he shifted ever so slightly so that he was still comfortable against Dean. "It's from infection and you know it. I'm okay."

Dean didn't believe it for a second. "I really have to go, Sammy, before Bobby kills us both."

Dean was halfway up before Sam's weak voice made him stop in his tracks. "Wait. Please don't go. I need my brother."

Dean turned to look at him. The pathetic look in Sam's eyes made Dean's heart seem to break. He frowned as he let out a loud sigh. "Sammy-"

"Just until I fall asleep, please? You were always good at that," he pointed out with a twinkle in his gaze.

Dean twisted as far away from Sam as he could as the tickle rushed through his nose as he barely had time to cover the nasal plight. 

"TcshsHshshSHS! ThcshsSHSHS ThcshsSHS!"

"Bless you," Sam whispered as he offered Dean a smile. He leaned down and picked up the mask and handed it over to Dean. "Five minutes."

Dean picked up the disgusting mask and cleaned it out with the paper towel before he blew his nose as well. He set it down on the couch before he took the mask from Sam and thrust it over his face. Dean tightened it so that he could hardly breathe before he felt Sam shift.

"You okay," Dean asked.

"You're not," Sam replied before he even could stop himself. "You miss dad and you might not believe me, but I do too."

Dean sighed as he felt his chest seem to clench and it wasn't just because the cold. "I know that you do, Sammy. Whatever happened wasn't your fault. It wasn't either of our faults. After all, hunters never live to be old and you know that. I'm just sorry that it happened the way that it did."

Sam let out a long breath. "Maybe now we can start over. Like we used to? Brothers?"

Dean wasn't sure if it was the fever talking or not, but he knew that he probably couldn't brush Sam off. But, Sam might not remember this gushy stuff either.

"Just get some rest, Sam. Everything will be better in the morning," sputtered Dean as he tried to control the coughing fit that bubbled at his chest.

It wasn't long before Sam's breathing evened out and he laid sleeping on Dean's shoulder. Dean was almost asleep too when Bobby walked in. He looked furious when he saw Dean and Sam sitting that close. He pointed at Dean, but Dean spoke before Bobby could.

"Don't worry. I'm still wearing my mask," Dean whispered.

Bobby crossed his arms across his chest before he shook his head. "You two maybe idgits, but I'm proud of you. You two just need to take care of each other."

"We will," wheezed Dean as he looked at Sam and couldn't help but smile at him. "Could I just stay here just for a few more minutes? Then I'll get some rest."

Bobby reached into a bag and brought out a box of tissues and raised an eyebrow at Dean. "Fine, but use those if you're going to be snotting over everything."

Dean smiled. "Thanks, Bobby."

"Don't mention it, idgit."

Dean leaned back and watched the sleeping Sammy and couldn't help but smile. Even here, with Dean feeling like shit and Sam probably feeling the same, things just felt right. Even though he knew that one day this closeness that they shared would probably end up killing them both. Until then it would be all that they had and that was fine by him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you all liked it and are staying safe and healthy! Also if anyone has any requests don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m always looking for more story ideas.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed it so far and are staying safe and healthy!


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